I’ve been dared to write a poem.
I sit here and I will show em
That I can write about bliss
But it will be hit or miss.
Happiness hasn’t been my friend.
On white wings heaven does not send.
I seek it every day.
A sneak of it I still pray
Will rain down upon me
Before I’m gone to sea.
This is why we write.
Why we put words down on paper.
Hoping someone will read them.
Be inspired by them.
We must keep writing.
Until we can’t hold the pen any longer.
And we lay our heads down for the last time.